Peter Dutton (Dickson, Liberal Party, Leader of the Opposition) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

My question is to the Prime Minister. As the Prime Minister is aware, earlier this month Charlie Stevens, the son of the South Australian Commissioner of Police Grant Stevens, tragically passed away as a result of an alleged hit and run. Can the Prime Minister share with the House his response to this tragedy.

Anthony Albanese (Grayndler, Australian Labor Party, Prime Minister) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

I thank the Leader of the Opposition for his question that we discussed him asking today. Last week a great many Australians read the extraordinary open letter from South Australian Commissioner of Police Grant Stevens and his wife, Emma, about their youngest son, Charlie. In their words, he was 'a lovable ratbag from the moment he could talk'. Tragically, it was a letter in which Charlie's parents laid bare their broken hearts. Just hours after Commissioner Stevens addressed the state about the tragic shooting death of police officer Jason Doig, he and Emma received the news no parent ever wants to get. Charlie had been the victim of an alleged hit-and-run incident.

The letter begins:

I am writing this sitting in a bedroom with dirty clothes on the floor, an unmade bed, six drinking glasses lined up on the bedside table, an empty KFC box next to the glasses, wardrobe doors left open and a row of skateboards leaning on the wall—it is a mess and it's perfect. This is where 101 lived.

Charlie was the 101st fatality on South Australian roads this year. Eventually the letter comes to this:

101 is Charles Hinchcliffe Stevens. Charlie, Charlie Boy, Chas, Links, Steve. You lived life and gave so much to so many. You were a force of nature and we will never forget your beautiful, cheeky, disarming smile.

It's little wonder that journalists who asked to read the letter on air broke down in tears. It is so deeply personal, so perfectly true to the life of one young man in one loving family, yet it is somehow so universal, so faithful to the joyful chaos, the perfect mess, the vibrancy of our children as they grow into young adults, and so achingly powerful as it deals with every parent's very worst fear. Yet, even knowing that what prompted this letter is the cruel injustice of a young man snatched away from all who loved him and all he loved, what shines through is not anger or despair; it is an enduring and eternal love.

But this letter was not written in search of sympathy. It was published to make us think, to ask us to reflect on the true nature of the road toll: not a number but the bright and beloved heart of a universe and a toll that is taken on all those who are left only with memories. Our hearts go out to Charlie's family and to every family that has ever been left to pick up the pieces.

Peter Dutton (Dickson, Liberal Party, Leader of the Opposition) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

on indulgence—I thank the Prime Minister for his words and for the opportunity to add to the question. I spoke to the Prime Minister about the prospect of asking this question today, and I did so because I've had some interactions with Commissioner Stevens over the years and I've found him to be a thoroughly decent man, a man who has dedicated himself, along with his family, to the community of South Australia.

I was speaking with Neil Mitchell on 3AW last week about this very issue, and the reality is, as the Prime Minister points out, that there are 100 families before this 101—about whom I'm going to speak in a moment—who have gone through the same pain and suffering, and always will, at the loss of their loved one. During that interview I undertook that I would read out the letter which has been penned by both of Charlie's parents, Grant and Emma. The letter reads as follows:

I am writing this sitting in a bedroom with dirty clothes on the floor, an unmade bed, six drinking glasses lined up on the bedside table, an empty KFC box next to the glasses, wardrobe doors left open and a row of skateboards leaning on the wall—it is a mess and it is perfect. This is where 101 lived.

101 arrived on the 28th of April 2005 and changed our lives forever. The last of five—he was different. Cheeky, intense and funny—a lovable ratbag from the moment he could talk. He was as frustrating as hell, but he was also the kid who would look after others, befriend the lonely, and help those who were struggling.

Intensity shone through as 101 committed to each new passion—Lego, BBL, scooters, footy, cricket, basketball, surfing, downhilling, Fortnite and his skateboard—it was all or nothing and it was always all.

101 hated cheese because his brother did. He was a master of the airfryer, the nutrabullet and the steamer. He loved his mum's curried sausages but he didn't know where the dishwasher was…

His favourite pastime was pushing mum's buttons—although a different name is on his birth certificate, "f*** off Charlie" was what you would hear most in our house, followed closely by "put a shirt on" or "take your hat off at the table".

101 loved footy. He loved the Cats, he played 100 games for the Mitcham Hawks, then the Jets, the Goody Saints, the Camels and Westies, he just wanted to play and be a part of the team.

It was 101 who taught us you can't shower unless you have your bluetooth speaker fully cranked so mum and dad can't hear themselves talk in the kitchen. 101 never wanted for soap, shampoo or shavers—someone else in the house always has it—even a used towel!

His enthusiasm for school saw no bounds—except start time and school work. But his enthusiasm for his family and his mates was real.

101 had a circle of friends the rest of us could only dream about. He loved his mates and they loved him. His friends' parents liked having 101 in their homes. He was mates with his brother's mates. Living with him meant waking up on weekends to four or five extra bodies in spare beds and on couches. It meant the family garage being transformed into a man cave where things parents did not know about (or probably permit) could happen.

The only time we saw 101 truly angry was when he was forced to cut his precious hair for his sister's wedding in 2021. He never went back to a hairdresser again.

Being 101's alarm clock was a role his mum and I took up when he left school and started his apprenticeship. "Get up mate", "get up mate", "mate, get up", "are you not going to work today?", followed by "drive safely and don't speed" becoming the morning mantra.

101 thrived at work, he loved working, loved his job and he idolised his boss. It meant he had money for TA Tuesdays and Wednesday Wings at the Feathers

101 was adored by the sausage dogs Grace and Zoe, who would sneak into his bed at night.

On a good day, we would be lucky to see 101 for half an hour between him getting home from work and heading out with his mates, but it was enough.

101 is Charles Hinchliffe Stevens—Charlie, Charlie Boy, Chas, Links, Steve. You lived life and gave so much to so many. You were a force of nature and we will never forget your beautiful, cheeky, disarming smile.

Son, brother, grandson, uncle, nephew, cousin, friend, workmate, team mate. So much more than just a number on a tragic tally.

Honourable members: Hear, hear!